Early Sunday AM

Just after midnight, I snuck outside, with Michael asleep to catch a bit of cool breeze and clear my anxious head.  If I closed my eyes, and calmed myself, I could swear that I was sitting next to a camp fire in Lake Tahoe – there was no feeling of my legs burning through my jeans, but the breeze as cold and smelled thick of fire wood, the mosquitoes were buzzing and trying to nip through my mosquito spray, the wind howled through our little courtyard here and the rustling was almost that of a breeze through tall pines. 

There is something about Lake Tahoe that tattooed itself on my soul – the smell of pines, the freezing air rustling my tent, the ice cold deep blue waters nipping at my toes causing such a shock that it steals my breathe.  Waking up at 5 AM to the sound of jet skies and racing boats bouncing off of the white tipped waves bring a smile and a certain sense of expectation to my day.  At night, counting a million white pin pricks against a jet black sky, so huge that we could never even begin to count all of the shooting stars that crossed paths, even though as children we thought we could.  There was almost always some kind of meteor shower during the beginning of August that we would stay up all night to watch, and of course one lightning storm on the lake to see – nothing quite so awesome as a purple and pink sky, painting its majestic reflection on the deep lake, with lightning strikes bouncing off of the surrounding mountains, the thundering shaking and quaking everything in between.  Even the rough surfaces of rocks, under my fingertips, as we grasp and climb our way through Heavenly’s miniature rock city is a part of the indelible mark of childhood. 

What beautiful soul touching place will own a piece of my children’s souls?  Where will they go out and find God, time and time again?  Will Benny remember the unstoppable rays nipping at his deep brown skin?  Will the sound of the tall papyrus along the lake blowing and swaying in the breeze bring his heart back to Uganda?  Maybe it will be the sound of early morning traffic, or the horns signaling the Muslim’s call to prayer and the chants and prayers broadcast over loud speakers throughout the city of Kampala that will make him remember a place so far away. 

We might not understand what they are saying, but every morning, they go off like an alarm clock calling us to our own form of morning prayer.  Of course some mornings I am praying that I can sleep through the chants for just ten more minutes, just give me 10 more minutes of deep sleep my Heavenly Father, and I will pray for an hour!!  That was my prayer this morning at 5:30 AM when the horns sounded in the distance.  I felt guilty, it is Sunday after all. I did reach through my mosquito net so I could read from my daily book of prayers, but not being able to find the light or the book, I gave up thinking about my waiter here who is Muslim, who pointed at my prayer book and necklace and told me that Muslims love Mary, which led me back home to a few friends that I have who are Muslim and I smiled.  Missing home, and missing watching our beautiful children play soccer together, and I let the imaginary sounds of kids on the soccer field, a coach yelling, and the sun eating my shoulders all lull me happily back to sleep.

Father Michael’s favorite scripture passage, and I say this because he says it to me ALL of the time:  “What then shall we say in response to this?  If God s for us, then who can be against us?” 

Romans 8:31

Soundtrack song for the night:  Winter Song – Sara Bareilles, Ingrid Michaelson

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Sunday Day

We were up early, like always and out to breakfast in the diner.  Breakfast here consists of toast, fruit, coffee or tea.  I bought my own boxes of tea when I was at Shop Rite, my favorite kind from last time when I was here.  I was so enamored by this tea that I tried to find it online a million times, but they only sell online through some places in Kenya and India.

When I say that it is time to eat, Benny will grab his shoes and football and head for the door.  Then he sits and eats and I sit and post and check emails and chat with my sister online, or whomever else wants to talk to me (of course this number is small), but it keeps me busy through breakfast.  Benny normally zones in an out, watches girls walk by, babbles to the young workers that are here.  Then we go out and kick the football around for a bit until it gets hot or I get bored.  I sit and pray at one of the tables while h turns flips up and down the hill or just randomly chases after the ball.

This morning, Father called to tell me that I will be here until Saturday by myself, trying to get things done, and then maybe he can come get me and take me to the village with him to stay for a week or two.  I worry about not being in Kampala to get things done, and he understands.  We will play it by ear.  He tells me where to go to church at locally, and then Benny and I play more.  I had given him some allergy medication to see if it would help his sneezing, running eyes and nose, but I think it made him drowsy because he starts whining, so I took him back inside to rest.  When we are on the bed, he insists that my hand sits on his chest.  Maybe that is because the last time he fell asleep, his daddy disappeared.  He smacks my screen, and leans all over me, wanting to see pictures of Paul.  This lasts maybe an hour before he falls asleep. 

And then, in the distance, I can hear the rain coming, slow and strong, and until it is overhead, where the thunder and rain stays for maybe two hours.  By the time he awake, the rain is gone, and he is ready to play again.  Back outside we go, but it is slippery and he is sliding up and down the hill tripping over everything and whining like a crazy person.  The owner’s son sees Michael playing and joins us for awhile.  It got to the point where if I tried to kick it, Michael would whine and point at me, so I sat and read scripture until it was time to eat dinner.  It was a nice break and the first where he did not demand my constant attention.  If I so much as look at a tablet with him there, he grabs my arm and puts it around him and leans all over me, pinching and hitting me if I do not show him what I am doing.  To get my attention, instead of calling me, he punches me in the shoulder, as to say, “Look woman, I want to show you something.”  I almost prefer that to the “EEEEEEE, EEEEEEE” he does most of the time though. 

Every time I hear “EEEEEEEEEE,” I say, “No Michael, say Mom (or more, or yes or no or anything but that.)  Even the waiters walk around saying, “Michael, what do you want? Oh EEEEEEE.”  They do it playfully, not to be mean, and Michael is starting to see that makes noises is no way to communicate.  I spent his nap time reading more speech blogs and have started working diligently (although mostly failing) at implementing some of the rules they have outlined.  For instance, children his age will not want to practice speech if they are getting along fine by just pointing or using other vocalizations.  Do not give in to demands given through vocalizations with no effort at real speech.  Do not be discouraged.  He understands both Lugandan and English so well that as long as I keep speaking to him, he stays happy and focused on what we are doing.

Notes from my prayer journal:  I am trying to pray more and focus on this next week – Heavenly Father please bless and guide the person who is typing up my court ruling, make their hands quick and steady and full of accuracy and peace.  Dear Heavenly Father, please bless and protect and guide the person at the Embassy who is answering my emails and assigning me appointments and giving me information.  Help me to ask the right questions, and get the right answers.   Help me to be appreciative and sincere at all times.  Help me to fill out my forms correctly.  Dear Heavenly Father, please bless, protect, and guide the people who will be receiving our passport application this week.  Help them to act swiftly, kindly, and lovingly towards the application and towards adoption passports in general that can often get hidden in the back of the stacks and placed on the bottom of the priority lists.  Please keep me focused on the goals set out before me.  Help me to breath in and out slowly, never wasting one once of your air on anger, resentment, or frustration. Amen.

“As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received.  Be completely humble and gently, be patient with one another in love.  Make every effort to keep unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.  There is one body and one spirit.”

-Ephesians 4:1-4

Soundtrack song of the day:  I Will Wait - Mumford and Sons

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